


Three Days in December

by ArkaneAssassin



Series: Moments of a Life [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArkaneAssassin/pseuds/ArkaneAssassin
Summary: Christmas at the Potters was always interesting. It gets even more so when you involve the daughter of the Draco Malfoy to the mix.





	1. A Trip to Hogsmeade

**_Hogsmeade, December 2019_ **

****

Pansy found herself greeted by the cold surroundings of the Scottish Winter as soon as she arrived in the village of Hogsmeade and briefly considered apparating straight back home to the slightly warmer conditions of the Westcountry. She didn’t know why James felt this meeting was so needed when he’d be home in less than a month but he’d been steadfastly refusing to admit just why he wanted her to come and had made it clear his father and mother were not to know he’d asked to see her. It wasn’t like that last aspect was needed as the chance to avoid speaking to Ginny always appealed to that small part of her still stuck in childhood rivalries.

 

She quickly began down the path from the outskirts of the village towards the Three Broomsticks and couldn’t help but watch the young witches and wizards bustle about from shop to shop, catching a glimpse of the young couples heading in and out of Madam Puddifoot’s. Oh to be that care free again when all that mattered was House rivalries, exams, and school romance without any inkling of the things to come. Serious things like household bills, career paths, how to fill in a tax form, and raising kids along with the comparatively trivial things like worries over grey hair, fearing the appearance of wrinkles, and swearing some parts of her no longer staying exactly where they used to without support. As she came up to the Three Broomsticks pub she watched and laughed to herself as one young man held the door open for his partner only for his eyes to go southward as she walked past. It seemed her husband wasn’t alone in appreciating a woman’s rear, knowing her still shapely one in a pair of tight jeans or form-hugging dress had helped when needing to bring Harry round to her way of thinking.

 

Once the pair had moved on from their doorstep encounter she was finally able to make her way inside, choosing not to place her rather expensive cloak on the public rack for some drunk to spill something over. Shaking it of the little snow that still hadn’t melted she looked around quickly seeing a mop of messy hair so like his father’s above a face where his mother’s brown eyes seemed focused on a near empty bottle of butterbeer with a miserable scowl that she must see several times a week. Even as she made her way over and eventually stood next to him he still hadn’t seen her it appeared, “so what’s the bottle done to insult you?”

 

Pansy’s question caused James to almost jump out his seat, “Merlin Pansy, you almost scared me to death,” he said almost breathless from the shock. He rose from his seat to hug her, his much taller frame dwarfing that of the woman who raised him, before he realised where he was and quickly pulled back hoping no one noticed his display of affection. He had a reputation to protect after all. “Do you want a drink?”

 

“A glass of red if they have any dear,” Pansy requested sitting down at the table while James headed off to the bar. While waiting Pansy peered around at the rest of the patrons sitting in very much the same way as they always had with small groups of Slytherins looking haughty as she likely did back in the day, Gryffindors shouting to each other without a care in the world, Ravenclaws chirping excitedly at some new invention or spell, Hufflepuffs doing… well she had no idea what those boring people did, and finally a few miserable locals spread around no doubt claiming how much better it was when the kids left for the holidays. Her astute observations where cut short when James reappeared, placing a glass of what would likely be cheap swill labelled as “wine” in front of her before placing his “butterbeer” (if she knew anything about her stepson it’s that he likely found a way to get actual drinks) on his side of the table before sliding back into his chair, “I ordered some snacks for the table as well.”

 

“That’s nice but I’d rather you get to why you asked me to come out here in such secrecy,” she asked getting straight to the point. Usually she’d be more tactful but her fingers were still frozen from outside. James ruffled the mess that he called his hair, attempting to delay the inevitable before responding, “I was hoping to bring someone over for Christmas.”

 

 _That’s it_ , Pansy thought finding the nervous request odd from a young man she knew was usually so proud and confident. No, clearly there was something else at play here, “well that sounds fine. Anything in particular about this person that requires this nervousness?”

 

“Well the thing is… I’m sort of… seeing this person,” _ah there it was_.

 

“I don’t see why you’re so worried. This won’t be the first person you dated that your father and I have met,” Pansy commented reassuringly. Admittedly though that last girl they met, a nice if somewhat dull Ravenclaw, had been two or so years ago now.

 

“Hm, I don’t think dad will be happy with this one.”

 

Now that was strange. Pansy couldn’t see why Harry would have a problem with a girl James was dating now unless… _oh_. Pansy reached across the table and patted James’ hand in a comforting gesture, “so that’s why you’ve been so quiet about these things for the last couple of years. It’s ok if you “prefer the home team” as it were. Most magicals and even the muggles are very open-minded these days about that sort of thing you know.”

 

“Pansy I’m not gay,” James said slightly too loud, looking round at the odd glances he was getting from the next table over.

 

Now Pansy was confused. If James was dating a girl then why would he be so worried about what Harry would think? It would be very unlike her husband to have a problem with someone his son wanted to be with. It was then however she looked over James’ shoulder and saw the table of Slytherins with a woman with light golden hair trying very hard to look everywhere but where the two of them were sitting. _Oh!_ Pansy sipped at her drink while smiling slyly, a gesture the young man opposite seemed to catch.

 

“Now do you see why I don’t want my parents to know.”

 

“Yes I can see why you dating the daughter of your father’s “nemesis”,” _Boy who lived needs to grow up_ , “would maybe cause some issues. However enough about your father’s creepy obsession with the Malfoy name and tell me why you’re dating the woman who you used to obsess about beating in Defence,” as though it was a question rather than an order. Last Pansy was aware of the relationship between James Sirius Potter and Lucrezia Alexis Malfoy was that the two had developed the same rivalry as their fathers’, with the two regular rivals in many subjects.

 

“Professor Longbottom decided that for our OWLs we should be paired together in Herbology, something about “unconventional pairings” or something. For the first four months or so it was nothing but arguing between us, I was sabotaging her plant and she was stealing my work and so on, but eventually in the Spring it just changed,” _I bet it did_ , “pretty soon it was midnight dates and early morning walks.”

 

“Sounds positively _romantic_ ,” Pansy smirked, knowing that such actions were the antithesis of James’ “cool” and Lucrezia’s “aloof”” personas, “do you have pet names and secret messages too,” she questioned, getting her answers from James’ blush _dear lord_.

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t know earlier given how close you are to her parents. Where did you think I was sneaking off to for the last two years during the Summer?”

 

“I thought you were seeing some Muggle girl from the area you didn’t want your crazy magical parents to find out about. Wouldn’t be the first Pureblood family child to have a secret Muggle partner.” The Prophet had a field day when the high and mighty Greengrass sisters were both found to be dating in the Muggle World. She wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why Draco and Astoria never really seemed to “date” despite their Marriage Contract, although given how the family name had been muddied due to his father it was no surprise he ended up marrying that girl from one of the American Old Families. Given how those two got along it clearly worked out for the best. Getting back to the matters at hand however, “so now I know this big secret of yours what exactly do you want me to do about it?”

 

“I was sort of hoping maybe you’d tell my parents about this,” James asked while scratching the back of his neck and having the decency to look like it was about a third the massive favour he was asking, “you know I’d make it up to you.”

“Haha, you must be joking. You only have to come home for the holidays mister but I’m the one who’ll have to live with Mr Miserable once he finds out about this and decides to be an arse,” Pansy took that moment to check the time and realised that said arse would probably be wondering where she was if she didn’t check in, “look James I’ll tell your father about this but you’re the one who’s going to have to tell Ginny. Now are you going to be polite and walk me out or sit here and mope some more?”

 

“Great, you take the easy one,” James added before downing whatever it was he was drinking and following her outside back into the cold and snow.

 

Feeling pity for the young man Pansy sighed and decided to give him some comforting parting words, “look James I’m sure it’ll be fine in the end. You know your father, he always comes round to my way of thinking eventually,” before pulling him in for a hug.

 

“Only because you’ll nag him to death if he didn’t,” he felt the need to tell her to get a small laugh in response.

 

“He doesn’t like to admit I’m always right sadly,” she replied before pulling away and seeing his stupid grinning face. James really had turned out like his father in his annoying ability to make her laugh when she was trying to do anything but, “look I’ll see you in a couple of weeks ok. Now go on,” she finished with a nudge to his arm. After James finally headed back inside Pansy began to trudge back down the road to the outskirts of the village, trying to figure out how she’d broach this subject to her husband.

* * *

 

As she opened the house door, nibbling on the end of a sugar quill she’d bought from Honeydukes on the way out of Hogsmeade, she could already hear Harry was up and about in the kitchen cooking something. She placed her cloak on the hook in the entrance hallway and placed her keys on the drawers, rolling her eyes when she heard a shout of “put them in the bowl” come from the kitchen. It was hardly like she was going to forget where she placed her own keys. Choosing to ignore her darling husband’s advice she instead chose to find what it was he was cooking, entering the kitchen to find him half-asleep, still in his bedclothes with that ratty old dressing gown of his she’d bought him a decade or so ago on top. It was nice he kept the thing but it didn’t half make gift giving a bit harder.

 

Looking at the counter it appears she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed he was cooking as one of the twins sat there, purring contentedly, eyeing up the half-filled plate next to her. They’d had the pair of black tab cats for half a dozen years now after she wanted a pet for the house and decided they might as well get a familiar for Violet at the same time. It wasn’t that hard to guess which would do which when Juniper was no doubt still on Violet’s bed as when she’d last seen her when she left this morning while Cleo here was always the one whose loyalties seemed to shift with her stomach.

 

“So where’ve you been so early,” Harry asked, not moving his eyes from the pan in front of him.

 

“Just up Hogsmeade,” she replied as she leant up against the counter facing away with it, idly stroking the cat as it purred away demanding more attention.

 

“So what did James want to talk to you about then?”

 

“Never said it was James,” it was annoying how easily he guessed things sometimes.

 

“The only reason you’d be up there on a Hogsmeade weekend is to visit your stepson, unless you’re having an affair behind my back,” he finished dramatically finally looking up from the pan to smile at her.

 

“What, and lose out on all this? James just wanted my advice on something that’s all.”

 

“What was that then?”

 

“Nothing really, just the usual Hogwarts stuff,” Pansy tried to say dismissively before grabbing a piece of toast off his plate.

 

“Hey, that’s mine you know,” he huffed.

 

“Yep, and now it’s mine,” Pansy teased in response.

 

“You and that cat are the same you know,” he put forward before turning back to his stove.

 

Pansy reached up to stroke at his hair, “because we’re both independent and beautiful women?”

 

Harry just shook her off, probably because she was playing with the hair at his temples that had ever so slightly started seeing greys speckled throughout which he was somewhat embarrassed by (she however thought it suited him), “no, you’re both just bleeding me dry,” he joked as though he was annoyed before leaning over to kiss her forehead. Pansy just stood there, nibbling at her stolen bread while feeding crumbs to the cat, as he went back to his cooking while trying to think of the best way to broach the issue of James’ guest.

 

“So James wants to bring someone over for Christmas,” she started, still unsure of where the conversation would go.

 

“I’m guessing he’s dating this someone. Hadn’t realised he was still with that ‘claw.”

 

“He’s not, he’s seeing someone else now.”

 

“Oh, right. Well if he told you I’m guessing there’s a reason why,” he spoke, sounding more and more like he was back at work than at home.

 

“He thinks you won’t be happy with who she is.”

 

Harry turned to look incredulously at her, “I’m guessing that means she’s a Slytherin then? He does remember that I’m currently married to one right? It’s not like that House is filled with terrible people, well apart from that git’s child, but I doubt he’d surprise me with that given how much those two don’t get a…”

 

Under other circumstances watching her husband go from so confident to lost for words would be fun for her, but instead as he clenched his hands round the edge of the wash basin to the point they became pale all she could think of was how to stop him doing or saying something she knew he’d regret outside the heat of the moment. They both just stood there for the moment, Pansy watching as Harry stared silently out the window, before she tried to get a fix on where he was, “you okay?”

 

 “Oh yeah, just brilliant,” he muttered, reminding her more of a Weasley right now in terms of his sudden mood change, “first thing I wanted to hear today was that not only is James involved with a Malfoy but wants to bring her home with him. Nothing and no-one good ever comes from being near that family.”

 

It took all of Pansy’s will not to fight back against that remark given her continued friendship with the family, she knew there were things that happened in that year that both her husband, Draco, and others haven’t told her about. She moved to place a hand on his arm, “look, I know you still have… issues… with Draco but you need to think beyond that. He’s not the same person he was in school, none of us are.”

 

Harry just laughed and brushed her off, “that’s easy for you to say given you were all friendly with him then and still are, so of course you’d take his side in this… like always.”

 

At this Pansy grabbed his arm, getting his attention, “look _dear_ ,” she practically hissed at him, “I don’t care what hang up you still have with Draco, this isn’t about him. This is about James wanting you to accept who he’s dating, someone who’s never done anything to wrong you but have the wrong surname, and be part of that,” Pansy was set to continue but they were disturbed by the sound of movement upstairs and getting closer to the stairs, “but you’ll have plenty of time to think of that while you’re on the sofa,” before leaving and deciding she’d rather say good morning to her daughter than deal with Harry right now.

* * *

 

Pansy couldn’t sleep.

 

She’d spent the last hour or so trying to switch off but instead found herself staring at the empty spot in the bed beside her and feeling a chill that came with being the only occupant of the bed, with Harry still relegated to the sofa in the lounge. The rest of the day had been… terse… to say the least, with Violet having been not very convinced of Pansy’s explanation that everything was fine when she’d noticed that her parents had spent the entire day not talking to each other the few times they were even in the same room together.

 

Even with her current predicament she wasn’t going to go back on her declaration that morning but she knew there was a way around it. Leaving the bed and grabbing her dressing gown before creeping downstairs to where her husband was currently draped with a blanket on the sofa. Slowly she moved the blanket away from where it currently lay to precariously lay herself on what remained on the sofa, forcing him further back into the cushions.

 

“You know, it’d be more comfortable if you just let me back upstairs,” came a voice heavily muffled by her hair, and thankfully an arm round her waist to stop her tumbling off the edge.

 

“Well tough, you should’ve thought of that before you had your tantrum this morning.”

 

They both just lay there for a little while before she felt Harry awkwardly turn his face to the side, “I’m sorry Pans.”

 

Pansy placed her hand over his and rubbed her thumb along his, “I know you are. Look I understand things happened in the past that you don’t want to tell me about but this isn’t about that.”

 

“I know. I promise I’ll make an effort to get to know this person and ignore her family connection. Just don’t make me have to reconcile with Malfoy though.”

 

Pansy didn’t think that would work in the long-run but for now it would do. No doubt he’d end up being fine once they meet anyhow, “ok. I think you’ll like Alexis anyhow. She’s smart, loyal, and caring but with a sharp tongue. I guess your son got your taste in women.”

 

“I thought you were meant to be _convincing_ me to like her.”

 

“Very funny Mr Potter,” tired of the arguments she instead decided to have some fun at his expense given his uncomfortable situation, “now if you behave I’m sure I can make it up to you,” she teased as she slowly but dramatically arched against him and wiggled her hips.

 

“You keep doing that and we’re definitely going to have to go upstairs,” he laughed into her hair, “by the way, who’s telling Ginny about this?”

 

“Hmm, oh I made him do it. I’m only obligated to deal with you and not your ex-wife dearest.”

 

“Well come Christmas we might be dealing with a funeral then.”


	2. High Society

**_Potter Household, December 2019_ **

 

“You do know we still don’t have to go to this thing right,” Harry spoke while trying to sort out his tie in the hallway mirror, only for the wife to huff at him.

 

“Except I enjoy them and you knew that before you married me. Look just stop fiddling with that,” Pansy replied, reaching up to fix it for him.

 

“I know you do, it’s just every time we go to one your dad tries to drag me away to talk about politics. That man really loves the sou…” Harry started only to be cut off when his tie was suddenly tightened up into his neck.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that too tight,” his wife spoke all too sweetly with that knowing smile of hers, “maybe my father wouldn’t feel the need to always tell you about it if you’d listen for once,” she finished, patting down the tie she was finally happy with and brushing a couple of noticeable pieces of fluff off his suit jacket. Harry was certain she’d have tried to fix his hair if she could but after many attempts over the last several years she’d given up, though she’d never publicly admit so. Instead he just watched as she finished preening herself in the mirror, fiddling with silver necklace of linked pansies he’d gotten her their first Christmas together. As he recalled she’d ended up getting him some very sturdy and comfortable (plus no doubt expensive) boots he still used for his Auror duties after he kept complaining about the standard issue ones.

 

While he’d stuck with a fairly simply dark almost black grey suit, smart shoes, and _that_ tie she hated so much Pansy had dressed far more elegantly as per usual for these events. Her choice being a silvery grey dress that flowed out from the waist and reached down past her knees with the back reaching her ankles while the top half was almost formfitting and appeared to cross over from each shoulder to the opposite hip but leaving her neckline revealed, and to go along with the necklace a pair of small emerald studs. Her normally just past shoulder length hair had also been put up into some fancy, what was it she called it again when he’d pestered her… braided something or other, with a couple loose strands to fall round her face. Clearly she’d caught him examining at her and smiled at him in the mirror, “see something you like dear?”

 

“Possibly,” he replied looking back at her as he moved close behind her, before placing his arms round her middle and a kiss on her cheek, “sure you still want to go?”

 

Pansy just huffed at him before shaking him off, “I haven’t spent all this effort getting ready just to please you Potter.”

 

Resigning himself to his fate Harry decided instead to follow her instructions for once, thinking that he should probably make sure their daughter’s babysitter for the evening was ok. Walking into the lounge he quickly saw both the babysitter and her charge on the sofa.

 

“You off then,” came the question from a relaxed Hermione Granger, who’d once again been tasked with looking after her unofficial niece for the evening. Harry was well aware that they probably asked Hermione more than most to take care of Vi these days but the two seemed to bond more than Vi had done with any of her other relatives. It wasn’t hard to see why as his nine year old daughter was already snuggled up against her aunt with yet another tome she’d bought for her.

 

“Just about, thanks again Hermione.”

 

“You know it’s no trouble, you go enjoy yourselves.”

 

“Not likely,” he finished just as Pansy finally moved to the lounge as well.

 

“Right, you ready to go then dear,” she “asked” to which he meekly acknowledged, already just wanting it over with, “thanks again Granger, see you later poppet.”

 

Pansy only got the usual response from their daughter when she was engrossed in a book, not even raising her bespectacled head when she just threw out a quick, “bye”, drawing a small tut from her mother. She then simply turned and headed for the door as Hermione sniggered slightly, “come along husband.”

* * *

 

“So you’re telling me that you definitely didn’t have a secret lovechild with Granger and just confounded me into thinking it was ours,” Pansy questioned only drawing another eyeroll from himself as she once again aired her conspiracy.

 

“For the last time my daughter is sadly 50% Parkinson,” he teased her.

 

Pansy just tutted yet again, “you can’t blame me for questioning though, that girl wants to be more and more like Granger with every passing day. Only last week she revealed the reason she grew her hair out was because she wanted me to put curls in it, which is never going to happen.”

 

“I’m sure she’ll grow out of it eventually,” was all that Harry responded with. Violet’s hero worship of her aunt had started off as something that Pansy was more amused by than anything but it’d slowly started to eat away at her after a while, a small part of her starting to see it as some form of failure as a parent rather than just the fact that their daughter was a bookworm and Pansy was the sort whose library consisted of little more than _Witch Weekly_.

 

He’d joke about that and the fact she’s a journalist but the last time that happened he ended up sleeping on the sofa for a week, and his neck was still painful from that little stay a couple weeks before.

 

Instead he just listened as she continued and focused on the walk up the path to the Parkinson ancestral home. Unlike the dark and foreboding palatial look that others such as the Malfoy Manor took on, the Parkinson’s was a more rustic look though still vast in size and that meant coming with a driveway that went on for miles as standard apparently. Eventually a slight tugging on the arm his other half was wound round brought him back to his current situation, “did you even hear what I said?”

 

“Probably not,” he answered, the honesty getting just an eye-roll rather than a berating.

 

“Father wants to have a word with you,” Pansy spoke as though she’d just handed him a 10 year stay in Azkaban, which to be fair was what any conversation with Thomas Parkinson usually ended up feeling that long anyhow.

 

“Great, why is it he’s always trying to lecture me about politics. He knows I have no interest in it.”

 

“Yes I know, you already said that. But that’s the price you pay for being close to the most political person on the planet who instead of attending these functions plays babysitter.”

 

“There’s a reason they call her the Brightest Witch of Her Age,” Harry drawled sarcastically as they approached the door.

 

Pansy let go of his arm to have one last check of their attire before smiling approvingly, “try to at least have some fun dear,” she consoled before planting a small kiss to his cheek and resuming her previous position as he pressed the doorbell. It wasn’t long before the door opened and they were met by the warm eyes of their host for the evening.

 

“I was starting to wonder if you were going to arrive at all,” Jessamine Parkinson “admonished” her daughter, “still I guess it’s better late than never a daughter remembers her parents.”

 

“Yes, yes, it’s good to see you too mother,” Pansy dryly answered as she was brought in for a brief hug before her mother turned to himself.

 

“I see you’ve managed to get your better half here as well this time though I take it we won’t be seeing my granddaughter as per usual,” she said rather pointedly after briefly hugging him. Outside simply their physical resemblance, differentiated only by Jessamine’s brown eyes and bob haircut his wife used to sport years ago, Harry found the elder Lady Parkinson to be a strange mixture much like her daughter. Despite the required Pureblood aloofness Jessamine had been rather welcoming whenever he’d encountered her, with a streak of wit his own wife had clearly inherited, and active in the lives of both the Potter children where she helped educate them on the aspects of wizarding culture he hadn’t grown up with. The one area they disagreed on however was on introducing Violet formerly into that world (a touchy subject with Pansy as well), with the arrangement being that the youngest Potter will be allowed to attend once she’d entered Hogwarts. While she accepted that fact it didn’t mean the woman didn’t bring it up as a frequent remark.

 

_Well at least there was no argument to be had about who Pansy’s mother was._

 

“No, she’s at home with her aunt currently.”

 

“I see, and James not coming either also given he hasn’t already made himself known,” the elder Parkinson added, with what Harry swore was a slight glint in her eye.

 

“No, he’s a bit pre-occupied with Hogwarts business right now.”

 

“What a shame, it’d be nice to have had the whole family together but I guess we’ll have to make do. Come along then,” she announced as she headed back into her home. Pansy just smiled at him before following leaving Harry to chase up the rear, closing the door as he did so. Even in the short time that took the two women had managed to already leave him behind and enter the opulent reception hall, where waiters fritted between the small groups of the wizarding elite no doubt discussing incredibly tedious issues he had no interest in. He made to quickly catch up to them before anyone noticed he’d arrived but it was already to no avail.

 

“Ah Mr Potter dear boy, what are your thoughts on the continued persistence that we pay for damages to Gringotts?”

* * *

 

Harry’s evening became a slow agonising one fairly quickly as he was passed from group to group who wanted his endorsement or simply a photo opportunity for their personal cause. He’d make attempts to hide this fact from whoever was currently talking him to death but usually it was to no avail as he instead sought to escape and move back over to his wife. He’d catch glimpses of her every so often and it only made him appreciate her all the more as he saw her in her element, not only able to easily handle the event but no doubt establish new or use existing connections to help her in her work as well. If it wasn’t for her help over the years he’d no doubt be even more lost than he currently was. As it stood he watched her various ticks he’d picked up on over the years come to the fore, her thumb running over her fingernails as though she was aching to grab a quill and note down the information she was currently hearing, a finger slightly scratching behind the right ear as she tried to hurry the conversation to an end as it wasn’t revealing anything useful, or a glint in the eye and a wry smile when she heard something that could be used to get someone to do her bidding.

 

Out of the three he was probably most familiar with that last one.

 

“You keep staring like that and people may think you’re deeply in love with my daughter,” spoke his mother-in-law as she approached from behind, “which as you know, as I taught you, is a very serious faux pas in Pureblood society.”

 

He turned slightly to acknowledge her presence, “well then I guess I’ll just have to offend them,” he stated as she came to stand beside him.

 

“Stupid answer Mr Potter,” she smiled ever so slightly at him, “even if I do agree. So I saw that what was meant to be Malfoy’s Christmas Eve Ball was held a week ago, and that instead because of “personal reasons” they’re staying at home tonight. Though I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with James’ absence.”

 

Harry had to suppress a groan at that, “how many know?”

 

“Just anyone with the gift of a pair of eyes and a brain between their ears. So these days practically no one,” she wryly observed. Harry wanted to joke with her but he was still struggling with the turn of events, even if he was making a sustained attempt to appear otherwise to the other half, “if it’s any consolation you’re hardly the first parent unhappy with their child’s choice of entanglement. When Pansy first told us you were involved Thomas was hardly best pleased either, thought you were too vocal and clumsy politically.”

 

“And you were happy with it?”

 

She laughed slightly at that, “absolutely not. I thought you were going to drive her to an early grave, which I still think might happen by the way, but you’ve made up for it over the years even if you keep my granddaughter a hostage away from us at times.”

 

He was about to respond when he felt a brief brush against his arm, about as intimate a move that was acceptable at these events, as Pansy made her way over with her father in tow, “must you torment my husband so much in public mother?”

 

“I wouldn’t say that daughter. Your mother probably has a good reason for questioning Mr Potter about his conduct,” spoke Thomas Parkinson who still looked every bit the businessman/politician than party host, a role that his wife clearly was more graceful at. The in-laws may comment on other odd couples but he found them to be the strangest of them all yet when they weren’t at events like this they somehow worked (and according to his odd partner when it’s just _family_ they’re laid-back) “speaking of which may I have a quick word with you in private?”

 

_Here we go again…_

* * *

 

“So what did father want to interrogate you about then,” his wife enquired as they finally left the party that evening, once again permitted to show any form of contact as she linked her arms around his and huddled close in the cold night breeze. It’d been a long night, made longer by certain events, and both probably looked quite accurately like two parents who hadn’t had that much to drink or stayed out so late in a good few months. Despite only having a couple of drinks each the gravel path was already causing them to stumble a little at times.

 

“Hmm, oh something about Hermione’s latest campaign,” Harry informed her, remembering the grilling in his father in law’s office all too well. He may have reached the other side of 40 and be a senior Auror but sitting in that man’s office, with its foreboding and chilly atmosphere, made him feel almost like a child again.

 

“And what did you tell him?”

 

“Not much, largely just nodded along and told him I couldn’t speak for Hermione.”

 

She rubbed his arm with one hand as though she was more congratulating a child, “I’m so proud of you, see how easy it is when you don’t act like a petulant child towards him.”

 

This drew a laugh from him, “yes, I know. She’s going to have to buy me a drink or several following this one let me tell you. It’s bad enough when it’s something small but her democracy drive saw at least five people berating me tonight about her being a busybody.”

 

“Well, she is one,” she proclaimed to get a reaction from him, only to apparate them both back outside their home just as he began to defend Hermione’s record. He hated the bloody transport method at most times, let alone when distracted and slightly pissed.

 

“That’s not funny,” he stressed to her smirking face as they arrived.

 

“Oh it is a little,” as she let go of his arm to unlock the door after a couple of tries, the pair of them finding the downstairs empty. Alone, she pulled him over and circled her arms around his neck while his almost by instinct fell around her waist, “you were very well-behaved tonight dear.”

 

“Why thank you sweetheart, it’s nice of you to approve my behaviour for once,” as he began to sway them side to side gently, drawing a huff from her before they both grinned at each other like teenagers.

 

“Well I was thinking that maybe you deserved your main present a day early to show how much I _appreciate_ you,” she attempted to tease, her eyes trying to go for sly, before kissing him languidly and slowly pushing him towards the stairs. Eventually making their way up it, stopping halfway in a poor attempt to undo her hair that simply left it half ruffled, they saw a small light emanating from under their daughter’s door, while the guest door was completely dark. Harry instantly knew what his daughter was up to as his wife tutted and untangled herself from him, “go on,” she said as she opened the door to the master bedroom, “just don’t be too long,” she warned him as she closed the door, leaving him stood outside it and next to Violet’s room.

 

Sighing he slowly opened his daughter’s door, seeing her clearly pretending to be asleep as one eye was slightly open and staring at the door, “you waiting for Santa again?”

 

“No,” came the worst lie he’d heard all night as his daughter sleepily sat up and pushed her glasses up her nose, “ok I was. But if every year he doesn’t appear then surely he can’t be real?”

 

_Damn that girl for being annoyingly smart for her age…_

 

“Well you can’t explain everything can you dear,” he tried to pass off.

 

“That’s not an answer dad.”

 

“Well,” he started as he loosened his tie, causing her to giggle when he placed it round her neck, and sat next to her on the bed, “I guess we can stay up and see if he arrives together.”

 

“Ok,” the girl yawned as she cuddled up next to him. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that as her head would repeatedly start to drop before, with increasingly longer periods between, suddenly jerk up as she tried to keep herself awake. He couldn’t help but smile at the determination the young girl was showing.

 

Eventually however, when he was sure she’d nodded off entirely, he tucked her in, placed her glasses on her bedside table, before turning out the light and leaving her to sleep no doubt only another 4-5 hours before she demanded they get up at the crack of dawn. Creeping back into the hallway he carefully closed her door before heading turning to the master bedroom door and cracked it open, momentarily blinded by the light.

 

When he adapted to the brightness of the room however he was greeted by the surprise his wife had laid out for him.

 

His eyes slowly followed up from the bottom of the bed where she currently lay, her smooth pale legs currently wrapped in a pair of translucent black stockings that appeared to be connected to a pair of dark emerald lace knickers that went around her hips and shapely rear while not leaving much to the imagination, not that he needed that to know what lay beneath them.

 

Moving his eyes further upwards another translucent piece of black cloth draped over the slight curve of her stomach and stopped as it reached yet more intricately patterned lace in emerald and black that covered her breasts from his view, more so than the other garment.  

 

His wife hadn’t been lying when she said he was receiving a present, finding himself captivated as always by her beauty regardless as to how it was highlighted in its current dress. What most endeared him right now however had nothing to do with what he’d previously seen but the look she was currently giving him.

 

Not one as he expected of the smoky-eyed temptress, with a coy smile and slight blush as she looked upon her, in these circumstances _very_ fortunate, prey. But instead the Pansy he couldn’t help but have fallen in love with all those years ago and remain so in love with.

 

As currently his wife lay with her mouth half-gaped, a slight amount of drool on the pillow, and a copy of _Witch Weekly_ crumpled beneath her as she was out in a blissful state of unconsciousness.


	3. Christmas at the Potters

**_Potter Household, December 2019_ **

 

Hermione had found that spending Christmas with the Potters was always an interesting yet warm affair, having done so for many years now as was tradition for them. It hadn’t started long after the War when her relationship with her parents still somewhat awkward after the whole wiping their memories for several months and a very expensive move to Australia and back, though these days though it was only ever mentioned by her dad as a side-eyed joke whenever she mentioned big plans. Instead Harry invited her to spend the Christmas with him and it had stuck ever since, giving her a ring-side seat to many events such as the early Christmases with Ginny and James, watching their marriage very quickly fail but still keeping a brave face on it for James while they argued privately in the kitchen, when Ginny moved out and it was either the two or three of them depending on who James was staying with that Christmas, then the quartet of herself, James, and the then still strange relationship between Harry and Pansy, to now being a quintet as the latest addition currently snuggled against her on the sofa continuing her reading from the night before.

 

She stroked the girl’s still damp hair, having refused to dry it after what must’ve been the quickest shower of all time, receiving a questioning look from the bespectacled girl who promptly went back to her reading after only getting a smile, having no doubt thought it an unneeded interruption from her aunt, while Hermione herself went back to cradling her mug of tea close. She looked over at the other sofa where the other two members of the current inhabitants were also curled up together and given the tired but knowing glances they’d been giving each other all morning so far even Ronald could’ve guessed what they’d been up to this morning before emerging from their bedroom.

 

_Failed to set the alarm indeed... and I’m sure that 30 minute showers are normal too now._

 

Now though they were together with their Christmas gifts they’d given each other that year. Harry sat rather proud of the scarf he’d received, sporting it for the last couple of hours, with striking house colours on display. Of course Hermione didn’t have the heart to tell him about the rather impressive charm Pansy had placed on it, which meant what only he perceived as red with a roaring lion at the bottom was in fact a rather notable green accompanied by a rather pleased with itself snake. The wife herself was currently leant up against him with Harry’s hand on her hip, sprawled along the sofa like some Roman aristocrat, flicking through the “guide to proper womanly etiquette” Harry had bought her from some out the way bookshop.

 

“Apparently a good lady should “appear demure at all times”. I think I can do that,” she announced before attempting to look modest before giving a very unlady-like snort, “well I definitely failed this one “a woman should only consider marriage to a suitable match, who himself should be of good breeding.”

 

“I’m sorry my parentage brings down your standing so much,” Harry answered, pressing a kiss to her head.

 

“I’ll cope Mr Potter, some of your other talents make up for it. Speaking of which isn’t it time you started cooking me that lovely dinner?”

 

Harry made an effort to appear annoyed, receiving a push from Pansy’s foot on his rear as he slowly moved towards the kitchen, as Pansy instead focused on the show. A show that looked at very Muggle politics set against the backdrop of a fleet of spaceships was hardly something she thought Pansy would enjoy but many of the things she didn’t think would happen have come to pass clearly.

 

“How’s he been doing with this Malfoy situation,” Hermione enquired.

 

“Oh, the usual. He says he’s alright with it and I know he’s been making an effort to be ok with it. Inside though I still think he’s struggling,” Pansy said, trying to not sound disappointed or annoyed but failing slightly. She quickly checked over her shoulder before continuing, fiddling with her wedding ring as she did so, “it just hurts sometimes with how he’s been, you know? Like almost as though he can’t see that him being against it because of the Malfoy connection he’s also effectively having a go at our marriage,” she sat there for a moment or two just sort of staring into space, before shaking herself out of it and trying to brighten the mood by staring inquisitively at her with that sly smile on her face, “so have you gotten around to meeting anyone new?”

 

Hermione could only roll her eyes at her friend’s, and it was still weird to think that after all these years, probing given her long ago revelations about her sexual desires… or rather lack thereof.

 

It’d taken several years to really nail it down, her asexuality that is. First thinking it was just that herself and Ron weren’t compatible when they called it quits barely a year after the war, then after a couple more attempts at relationships she thought maybe she wasn’t into… conventional… tastes but her attempts at more kinky acts left her more embarrassed than anything else. Then there was when she was about 26 and met that witch from Magical Transport who really caught her eye, but despite the initial whirlwind of romance and new experiences she soon felt the same lack of interest in the sexual aspects of their dalliance and amicably broke up.

 

After coming to terms with her situation there’d been a couple more relationships with those either in the same boat or more understanding of it, the longest lasting several years before they broke up. Gracelynn, a Magic-aware Muggle several years younger, had been like her in many ways, with a love of books, lazy days in the countryside, and a campaigning streak to boot. Sadly they’d been alike in too many ways, with both being too career-driven to really settle down at the time with Hermione at that time heading up the Auror Office (which had been heavily fought over given she’d made her career outside of it) while they took a liaison post for the Muggle government abroad. They tried to make it work for a while but eventually it collapsed for stupid reasons she can’t even remember.

 

She still received a blue rose on their anniversary every year, and every year she found a stupid reason not to get back in touch.

 

“I’m very much happy as I am right now thank you Pansy,” she rattled off over the top of her mug.

 

“Ok, it’s just been a couple years now and I worry, well I know I’d be worried if I was on my own for that amount of time.”

 

Hermione just smiled and stared at the cats chasing each other through the remains of wrapping paper on the floor.

 

_It’s going to be a long morning._

* * *

 

“Oh, I think they’re here,” Pansy more or less shouted from the dining room, “right come on sweetheart.”

 

As Hermione watched her briefly fluff her hair out and make sure her jeans were sat just right she had to admit Pansy was very good at making it look like her look was effortless. As much as the Potter household may resemble little more than barely organised chaos Pansy couldn’t help but fall back into the Pureblood Wife role that’d no doubt been drummed into her since a child whenever someone outside the family unit threatened to breach the bubble. She’d almost say it was like a lioness protecting the pride but she doubted such Gryffindor expressions would fly with her.

Instead she currently stood next to Harry, who was currently opening and closing his hands anxiously, with a calming hand on his left arm and her other wrapped round it. The picture-perfect couple, if slightly unusual with Harry in his Weasley jumper. A vision that appeared quite similar to the one she could see just out the window, as James seemingly timidly approached the door with a young woman wrapped around his arm beside him.

 

Of course that all broke the moment the door bell rang.

 

“James is here, James is here,” Violet practically screamed as she ran past Hermione and into the hall, hearing the girl’s attempts to scramble the door open, “who are you?”

 

Hermione struggled to stifle a laugh at Violet’s outburst, almost missing as a somewhat subdued yet clearly soft, aristocratic voice replied, “my name is Lucrezia Malfoy, but you can call me Alexis if you’d like. I’m James’ girlfriend.”

 

“Please, why don’t you come into the lounge. Harry here is just finishing up preparing lunch,” Pansy suggested, trying to break the awkward situation at the door. It clearly worked as she led the three children into the room, allowing Hermione her first real look at the young Malfoy woman. The teenager she found in front of her was at odds with the image she’d seen at a few Ministry functions over the years, one of a young aristocrat with a polite yet unquestionably aloof manner dressed in finery. Instead she was dressed, no doubt deliberately, in a more casual and non-threatening manner with a simple light denim dress covered by a powder-blue woollen jumper and tights.

 

The young couple attempted to sit on the sofa vacated by Pansy only for Violet to quickly muscle her way between the two and huddle up to her older brother, causing James to shoot his guest an apologetic look, before Pansy settled next to Hermione herself. She couldn’t tell how long they sat there, with the background noise of the TV the only thing breaking the silence, but it was one of the most awkward experiences of her life.

 

“If I may say so Ms Granger, I found your attempts to reform the registration and integration of Muggleborns to be quite inspired, along with the push for better education on Muggle society at Hogwarts,” came the voice of their guest, breaking the silence in a way Hermione hadn’t been expecting.

 

“Oh, why thank you. It wasn’t an admittedly perfect success but I think the changes that were implemented will do some good,” Hermione admitted, not wanting to toot her own horn too much in front of the compliment.

 

“Well I found it interesting, especially as Muggle Studies in your day was said to be erroneous at best and non-existent at worst,” _that’s giving it a bit too much credit_ , “though I believe the older generation ignore it to their peril.”

 

“I hope you’re not including myself in that Alexis,” Pansy interrupted, Hermione still somewhat confused by a Malfoy of all people supporting Muggle education, “I can operate this house’s microwiv quite well,” she finished, looking a bit too proud for anyone to correct her on what a microwave was called.

 

“Yes, James has been informing me of how much this house is filled with Muggle objects,” the young woman said proudly, clasping one of her boyfriend’s hands in hers, “I see that they’ve long mastered moving pictures with sound even if I’m somewhat confused by what they do with it.”

 

“I think Pansy’s taste in television confuses most of us,” Hermione laughed to her friend’s annoyance.

 

“Yes, mock your host. How polite of you all,” Pansy wryly remarked, “so Alexis, what is it you’re looking to go into after Hogwarts?”

 

“I’m not sure. I might go travelling for a while first but as to a career I haven’t made my mind up. I enjoy Charms so maybe something at Magical Accidents or Muggle Liaison.”

 

Before the conversation could continue they were interrupted by Harry, “well dinner’s ready if anyone still wants it,” he announced. Violet once again shot off, intending to sit next to James’ usual spot only to be lifted by Pansy next to her when they made it into the room, allowing James and Lucrezia to sit together while Harry and Hermione sat at opposite ends of the table.

 

Once again silence settled in once they began eating, save compliments to Harry for the feast he’d cooked up as per usual.

 

“So… Lucrezia, who do you think is going to win the Quidditch this year,” Harry awkwardly asked, inevitably falling back to his safe bets on conversation, causing Pansy to roll her eyes at her husband only for Lucrezia to quite passionately respond.

 

“I think the Falmouth Falcons have a good shot at the title this year. Especially with Sanderson at the helm.”

 

“Really, they’ve been below average all year. Puddlemere are the ones to beat this year and they aren’t getting beaten.”

 

“I think you’ll find that Puddlemere haven’t been anywhere as successful as they once were since their manager left. Shame really as now all the people who claim to like Quidditch don’t have the easy option to support.”

 

“Says the Falcons fan. How many penalties do they give away as they don’t seem to understand you can’t just beat the opposition to death because they don’t know how to pass the quaffle themselves.”

 

Hermione and the rest of the table could only watch as the two of them began to argue more and more about Quidditch, with the Muggle-born witch swearing she overheard Pansy whisper to her step-son, “you just had to date the one Witch obsessed with that bloody game as he is.”

 

 

By evening the group found themselves once again all in the lounge, watching some god-awful programme and gorging on various snacks that’d been strewn around the place. The two couples had easily taken ownership of the sofas while Hermione kept Violet distracted in the window seat, both reading yet another of the book’s Violet had been gifted with, but Hermione’s mind was elsewhere after the events of the day.

 

Much of the afternoon after the meal had seen the two Quidditch fans continue to “passionately debate” the various merits of teams between them, with Lucrezia at one point unashamedly saying she still supports the Slytherin team despite dating the captain of the Gryffindor one, leaving Pansy bemused as the person who was most upset at the girl’s visit was instead refusing to let anyone else talk to her. The state of happy families though was threatened to be upset when a game of monopoly descended into anarchy as they all turned on each other while Violet took the role of interest charging banker. After thankfully drawing that game to an end however they’d largely settled in to their current state.

 

It wasn’t too long before Harry had fallen asleep, no doubt the most overworked by the events of the day, as Pansy lay comfortably against him while on the other sofa the young couple were busy quietly talking with each other. Pretty soon the pair made their excuses to head upstairs, leaving the adults and Violet alone downstairs.

* * *

 

“It’s alright if you go Hermione,” Pansy relayed sleepily to her.

 

Hermione shook herself out of her own little world, “hmm. No it’s fine.”

 

Pansy laughed slightly, “no, it’s not. I know what you’re thinking about Granger. Go on, I’ll take care of poppet there.”

 

Hermione wanted to complain but a surprisingly stern look from the matriarch of the household convinced her she wouldn’t win. She quickly said her apologies to the young girl beside her, who thankfully just went and jumped on her mother instead.

 

Pansy was right in that she had been thinking about a certain someone all day, those thoughts only made greater after seeing the young Malfoy woman’s attempts to be accepted by a family where at least one seemed deadset against it, and finally realising that there was no point in making excuses for herself anymore. Quickly going upstairs to the guest room, noting that someone had clearly and thankfully placed a silencing charm on James’ room, to grab her coat and headed back downstairs, noting that all three Potters on the sofa had already fallen asleep. Letting herself out she made her way down the path before she apparated away.

 

Upon recovering Hermione found herself in a quiet corner just outside of Cardiff, a place she hadn’t been in a long while. Finding her bearings she quickly found the destination she wanted, a small imitation Tudor house covered in vines and other vegetation that gave it an abandoned look that was only betrayed by the warm glow of a light in an upstairs window. Easing open the gate, wincing as it squeaked slightly, she crept up to the front door and tried to summon the courage to knock on it. She must’ve been there some time as eventually an amused voice came from behind the door, “it’s open you know.”

 

Hermione just rolled her eyes and opened the door, to see that nervous smile and warm brown eyes on a face framed by Auburn hair she’d missed ever so much.

 

“I wondered when you’d finally show up.”


End file.
